


Friendship Bonding Time

by Doceo_Percepto, Sp00py



Series: A Noncanon Version of Little Nightmares II [7]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Mentioned cutting, Mono is a masochist, Roleplay, Six is still a cannibal, Vomit, biting off more than you can chew?, but not that much of a masochist oops, mentioned self-harm, mono tries his hardest to get eaten, post-Signal Tower, six is a crocodile with very flat teeth, uh oh intensifies, uh oh spaghettios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py
Summary: Mono has a bad idea but it sounds like a good idea.(roleplay between Sp00py and Doceo_Percepto. Meaning it's in roleplay format. We made no effort to make it flow like a normal story)
Series: A Noncanon Version of Little Nightmares II [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652644
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

Mono twisted his fingers together in his lap, sweating and beyond nervous.

Technically, there was no reason he should be nervous. Instead of ranging across the world, hopping from town to town, he and Six were in a familiar shelter in his home city, lit warmly by yellow lanterns, full with smuggled food and water. It was the best sort of digs two kids could get in this world, and a far cry from sleeping in trash or on concrete or in the various other places they’d been these past few weeks of traveling.

Furthermore, Six was very much relaxed and calm, her stomach full, her mood peaceful.

For all intents and purposes, he shouldn't be nervous.

But he was. Because there was a question dancing around in the forefront of his mind, and he was terrified, terrified to ask it. Most likely he was being unreasonable.

He had been through hell and high water with Six - and that was an understatement. He trusted her with his life, as she trusted him with his. Time and time again that trust was proven through their adventures and the inevitable risks they faced. If that wasn’t enough, she’d always been accepting about him, and him to her: there was no judgment, or derisiveness, or hatred. They simply got along well as friends, fellow fighters, and… and sometimes something more, although that was still something just barely beginning, and Mono hadn’t worked it out yet.

So he had no past evidence with Six to lead him to believe she’d respond badly to his question.

But he was terrified anyway.

He’d never told anyone. He didn’t really understand it himself. It was difficult to put to words, or even begin to describe, because it was largely an experience of emotions and feelings and desires, without it making clear sense to him. It just expressed itself intensely at times, frequently enough that the thought was never far from his mind, and the longer he went without saying anything, the worse it got. The more it built up in him, and demanded - demanded _something_.

He knew it started when they were both younger, when his skin would flinch with every shriek and writhe of Six’s victims; when he’d stare at the pain she’d inflict, unable to tear his gaze away, and part of his mind would imagine those things happening to him. It didn’t make sense. It went against all survival instincts. 

It didn’t stop there, though. There were times at night, after Six had dozed off, that he’d look at her soft features and marvel at how she could be so gentle and innocuous one moment, and so vicious and terrifying the next. He’d drift his gaze down to the hint of her teeth peeking behind her lips, and think about those teeth dug in his own skin. The thought invariably sent a thrill through his spine. Something like excitement. He'd tear his gaze away, heart thudding, abysmally wondering what was wrong with him.

Maybe to some extent he shouldn't be surprised. It wasn’t like these tendencies were _new_. Before he ran away, during the times things at home were particularly bad, sometimes he’d lock himself in the bathroom with his father’s razor, and… the things he did to himself were bad. He knew they were shameful, that he shouldn’t, that it was weird. Unfortunately, shame never overrode the sheer pleasure of it. The shuddering weak-kneed release of parting his own flesh. The private ecstasy of witnessing his blood swirling down his pale skin, pooling in his palm, and dripping between his fingers. During those really low times, it was the only thing that made him feel alive. And not just alive - brimming with emotion, with pleasure, with giddy delight. Sometimes, it was the only good thing that would happen to him for weeks, and the feeling was so nice he’d crave it. Badly. He'd need it. 

Of course… once he ran away, and met Six, he stopped doing that, for a multitude of reasons. Yet the craving had lingered, so subtle as to pass his notice, gradually growing. Until it was impossible to ignore. It clawed at him. Begged him. Except this time, it wanted something different. Something more. Instead of being alone, digging into his own skin by his own volition… the whole ordeal could be intimate. With someone else. With Six. The thought was a lick of fire and shame simultaneously. What would she _think_ of him? That line of thinking was one that had been tormenting him for weeks, as his craving for it only increased. Every time she killed it burned fresh in his mind. Not that he wanted her to truly kill him; he’d never really want that. He just… wanted to be close with her. The way she was to those she did kill. He wanted her to hurt him. Wanted her to be the one drawing his blood. He wanted it so badly it was painful to withhold it.

But getting it… meant asking.

Meant confessing.

Meant potentially facing her rejection, her disgust. Mono shuddered. He’d argued this back and forth with himself countless times, pointing out that Six would never react that way. Even if she didn’t understand. She’d be sympathetic. She’d be kind. His mind refused to believe it, foreseeing only the worst of possible conclusions. Foreseeing her abandoning him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Mono pushed away the thought. He was tired of the internal war. Six would be sympathetic, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. They were only ever truthful with each other, only ever honest. She wouldn’t abandon him over something like this…

Mono couldn't say he properly gathered the courage. More like the words slipped out, each one squeaky and high-strung, falling from his lips before he could stop them, “u-um, Six? I - I wanted to ask you something…”

* * *

Six kept her thoughts to herself, most days, a habit born of necessity. She’d spent her entire life on the run and alone. Hunted, toyed with. Any sound could give her away, any friendship could be betrayed. It made a person wary. Solitude was good. Silence was best.

Mono was the exception. She still didn’t talk, not like he did, but she wasn’t alone. The silence wasn’t a raging vacuum around them. It just was, until he broke it. Hesitant, unsure. Worried.

It put her immediately on high alert that something was _ wrong _. Wrong in a way Six couldn’t figure out from a glance around their little hideaway. They’d not been found out; they had all the supplies they could want or need. She wasn’t hungry, so herself wasn’t the threat.

He wanted to ask her something, so the threat wasn’t imminent, whatever it was. Just a question that, for some reason, was putting Mono on edge. Or this was him going over that edge.

Though Six was the least socially adept person out there, she realized that Mono had been a little twitchy as of late. She didn’t know when it had begun, but he was a bit more distant, as though hiding something. When she first noticed, she’d worried that he was growing uncomfortable with her killings — it had seem correlated to that, but he never told her to stop or tried to intervene. He never left, though she wouldn’t stop him if he tried (no matter how much she would want to, she was almost positive she wouldn’t stop him). He wasn’t even acting particularly odd in any ways she could pin down. It was just a sense of discomfort, and that made her uncomfortable, too.

And now he wanted to talk about it, she guessed. It frightened her, this vast unknown. But she never shied away from fear before. She’d let him leave, if he wanted. She would. She’d understand. She wouldn’t stop him (though she so easily could).

Six gave a short nod to indicate she was listening.  
  


* * *

Now her attention was wholly on him. Somehow that made it way worse. Averting his eyes, Mono let out a shaky breath, his nerves already immensely regretting him saying a thing. How much easier it would be to just.... dismiss that he'd said anything. To back away from the situation and leave it for another day.  
  
His own voice betrayed him, starting falteringly, "Do... do you ever wonder how pain can feel um..." _H__orrible?_ his brain supplied, very unhelpfully. "How it might feel... nice?" he winced at how stupid it sounded, how humiliatingly vulnerable admitting this made him. Then, realizing how his words might be misinterpreted, he hurriedly continued, "I-I mean, not that _you_ would feel that, just - it's something _I've_ been thinking about -" wincing, "not that _I_ would feel-" No, no this was going all wrong. 

Biting his lip, Mono tried to collect himself. All his attempts at skirting around the subject or leading into it nicely failed when, with his voice little more than a squeak, he uttered, "sometimes I think about you hurting me." Then he barely breathed. Was scared to look at her. There it was. Out in the open. Not at all the way he'd wanted to bring this up.

* * *

Six hadn’t been expecting the conversation to go in this direction, and she squinted her eyes trying to piece together that rambling disjointed… question? Confession? Was that what it was?

It felt nice to hurt people, yes. Visceral, like how it felt nice to eat food and satisfy that baser need. Because that was what they were. Squirming, writhing, screaming _ food_. But pain feeling nice was an alien concept. She didn’t like pain. It meant something had gone wrong. It meant that she might die.

Normally, if someone said they thought about her hurting them — especially if that someone was Mono — Six would understand that it was a scary and very real possibility. But this didn’t seem a statement born of fear. How it might feel nice, how he thought about her hurting him. Mono was definitely afraid, but not of that if she was understanding his words correctly. Which Six wasn’t entirely sure she was. She wouldn't hurt him, and she was sure he knew that, too.

Mono wasn’t looking at her, though, so he couldn’t see the confusion on her face, subtle as it was. Six scooted a little closer and pressed a hand against his arm. She wasn’t upset or whatever he was worried about, just confused.

“What… do you mean?” she asked. Her voice was rough, whispery, clearly not used regularly. But Mono’s own wavering voice, his refusal to make eye-contact and myriad nervous gestures — it warranted stronger intervention than her usual silent support.  
  


* * *

Right.

She didn't understand. Part of him dismayed over that, and berated himself because of course she wouldn't understand: he'd explained literally nothing and just tripped over every word.  
  
Part of him, a more rational part, focused on the things that really mattered. The fact that she was listening. The fact that she asked for elaboration - not with cruelty or a mocking tone, but with the desire to understand. Further, her hand on his arm was soft, reassuring. All of this served as a reminder that this was Six. The person he trusted the most. 

Mono exhaled slowly. He needed to be a little clearer. "Sometimes I think about you hurting me, and... it's something I want to try. You hurting me, making me feel pain." He dared to meet her gaze, and his voice came out relatively even, faintly excited, "You do scare me, but sometimes - I like that."

* * *

Six squeezed his arm, then sat back and put a finger thoughtfully to her lip. She wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Well, obviously Mono had some idea of what he’d like her to do, but — people didn’t like to be hurt. Or so Six had thought. _ She, _certainly, didn’t see the appeal of it happening to herself. But if she was being honest she had thought a few times about hurting Mono. Not for any malicious reason, but just because she was hungry and he was there, all soft and warm and alive.

He was always there. Six had worked so hard not to hurt him because of that. The longer he stayed with her, the more likely they’d be in some situation where she couldn’t eat. Where there wasn’t anything for her, except him. They’d had a few close calls, though Six didn’t know if Mono realized just how close. Just how much she wanted to sink her teeth in and feel his blood on her tongue, the salt of his skin. The taste of his life seeping into her.

Oh, yes, there had definitely been close calls.

And now Mono was asking her to hurt him? Six took a deep breath. This close, huddled together, trusting only one another, it was so easy to recall those desires. If she could do it, but keep it safe, keep it sane (this was absolutely not sane).... Mono could enjoy it. Six might, too. So long as she didn’t go too far. Push too hard. Bite too deep.

It made her nervous just to think of having that power over Mono. Nervous, but also intrigued. Maybe even a little excited, picking up on how excited Mono was at the idea alone.

She trusted him, and he obviously trusted her so, so much. She could do this.

Six reached toward Mono’s face, then hesitated. What if she did go too far? How would she know, in that shadow-tinged haze she’d fall into? She’d not forgive herself for a long time if she killed Mono. But still….

Again she reached for his cheek, cupping it, and gave a resolute nod. She didn’t understand, at least not from his side, but she was willing to try.  
  


* * *

It took a few moments for Mono to process that she was agreeing. That she was willing to go along with what he had suggested. Although this was exactly the response he was hoping for, he realized he hadn't been prepared for it whatsoever. Every part of him had been steeling for rejection, at the very best. All of it was suddenly much more real, much more terrifying, much more imminent. He swallowed hard. He was more than aware of what she could do to him. He'd seen her killing more times than he was willing to count. Maybe this was a bad idea. No, it _was_ a bad idea, he knew that. But it was a bad idea that tormented him frequently. And he'd be lying to say that despite the fear (or in part because of it), he was almost desperate to start. 

Out of habit, he placed his hand over Six's smaller one, pulling it from his cheek and twining his fingers with hers. It was a comfort gesture. Reassuring.

There was just the matter of... of starting. It was his idea, and he got the sense she was looking for his guidance. 

Over and over the images played in his mind, of her ferally crouched over prey, her teeth pulling blood and sinew from their still warm bodies. Of course, he didn't want anything that extreme, no, but it did make his heart pound to think of having her teeth on his skin. (This is so messed up), his brain reminded him, in case he didn't know.  
  
Luckily, his body moved very much without any input. He detangled his hand from Six's, in order to tug up his sleeve past his elbows. (What are you DOING) His forearm was pale, bare, and very vulnerable.

A nervous smile flicked at one corner of his mouth. He was nearly trembling, though he didn't know if it was from excitement or fear. Scooting slightly closer, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear, knowing full well how close that brought his forearm to her mouth. "You can bite," he whispered, frightened by his own suggestion. Quickly, he rectified, "j-just gently - _gently_."

* * *

Their intertwined fingers was a grounding force. Mono was her friend, and he wanted to share something so intimate she never thought it could be shared. When she was eating she wasn’t thinking about the closeness, but once she was done, coated in her food’s blood and viscera, her fiery hunger cooling as their corpse did, Six supposed there was a certain… mingling. Thoughts and memories, blood and spit. All churning inside of her. As close as close could be.

Six gave a responding squeeze. They could be close too, if not _ that _ close. It was just another layer of their friendship, a strange sort of blood bond, reasserting their care for one another. Yes, that sounded good. Six had never had a friend before Mono. She wanted to keep him with her, tied together through light and dark and all the greys in between.

It made her sad for a moment when Mono disentangled himself, but soon she realized what he was offering. Six tensed up as Mono moved toward her. Not because she was afraid he’d hurt her, because she was by no definition of the term a victim, but because she couldn’t see anything but the arm he was presenting her so trustingly. The veins traced paths like a network of bluish roads underneath his skin. Six wanted to peel back the flesh and trace that map of his blood flow with her tongue. 

_ You can bite _.

She almost missed the clarification that it be gentle. Six couldn’t just jump right to what she instinctively wanted to do. It was a good thing she’d so recently eaten, though, or else she wasn’t sure if she would be able to ignore the temptation.

Six caught Mono’s gaze and focused on that as she caught his wrist and brought her teeth to his arm, midway between wrist and elbow. She wrapped her teeth around the edge of the bone there and pressed down tentatively, holding back the urge to rip. She tasted the salt of his skin, the scent that was uniquely Mono’s. She wanted to dig in deeper so, so badly. But she refrained. She watched him, instead, for any signs of discomfort or any desire for her to stop.  
  


* * *

Mono's breath caught in his throat. His pulse raced in his ears. Although he kept his gaze linked with Six's, half afraid that looking away would spell his destruction, he was hyper conscious of the feel of her teeth clamped lightly around his arm. It hurt, but only faintly, a dull ache. Like a warning. He'd seen her tear flesh from bone. Effortlessly. Ravenously. With an unrivaled eagerness and a near-insatiable hunger. She could so easily do the same to him. But this? This was her being immeasurably careful. This was her looking after him. Caring for him. Knowing that gave him a rush of warmth, which mixed addictively with his terror.   
  
He flexed his fingers, morbidly fascinated by the way his muscles shifted under her teeth. When he closed his hand into a fist, the ache worsened; when he released, it lightened. He did this several times over, shivering at the sensation. 

Her grip on his wrist was gentle, and her teeth only lightly pressing, but he felt trapped. Like he couldn't pull away or there'd be consequences. The feeling wasn't a bad one.

"More?" he whispered, flinching in anticipation. It was a question far more than a demand, and not a question of _will you?_ but of a question of _is this safe? _Is it possible, without going too far? He very much wanted more, but dreaded pushing her too far and making her do something she’d regret.

* * *

Mono’s every action triggered Six’s instinct to bite down hard, to rip in, to take and take and leave nothing behind but a tattered, bloodied husk. It would be the work of a moment, and he couldn’t fight her off in the time it’d take for her to finish him. His skin was so fragile as it shifted underneath her teeth. Mono was so fragile.

If not that he was looking right at her with his big, trusting eyes, Six might have done something bad. Something she both wanted to do and was terrified of doing. But this was _ Mono _. He must have felt so sure she’d not do anything irreversible, and Six didn’t want to let him down. She wanted to make him happy, because he was her closest (only) friend.

Luckily, with his arm in her mouth, Six didn’t have the option of trying to form words at his next request. She wasn’t sure what she would say, anyway, but she felt a strange sort of nice that, instead of immediately changing his mind about this whole thing, Mono wanted more. He wasn’t pulling away (Six would definitely let him go if he did that… she thought). He was surrendering himself to her. That was an awful lot of trust from someone who’s seen what she was capable of.

Six bit harder — not to break skin, but imprinting the shape of her teeth into his arm. Hard enough to tantalize. She still felt in control, though the urge to rend roiled inside of her. Then Six lifted her teeth and shifted just slightly, before biting down again, overlapping the crescents of her teeth in Mono’s flesh.  
  


* * *

This time, it wasn’t just a faint ache. Her teeth dug hard enough into his muscle that half of him was frightened she was outright going to puncture the skin - which was a thought simultaneously breath-taking and petrifying. At the moment, much more petrifying. He had to grit his teeth to restrain whatever noise wanted to emerge. He didn’t want to startle her, didn’t want to scare her (or incite something worse). The second bite, overlapping the first, was even more intense: the pressure sent a tingling numbness up his wrist, which enveloped his hand in a weird, surreal feeling. A flash of worry struck him - could this alone damage his arm beyond repair? Without her even breaking skin? It seemed silly to think, but he didn’t know. He realized he didn't know a lot about this.

The actual level of pain intrigued him, but the numbness, and the pressure (and if he were honest, the look on her face) had him a bit uneasy. He twitched as if to jerk his arm back before stifling the impulse. “Um-“ he started to say, then faltered. Always at the worst of times, words failed him.

* * *

When Mono’s arm twitched, Six’s hands instinctively rose to still her prey — her friend — Mono. Her short nails dug into his skin, leaving painful crescents. Her eyes closed, breaking the steady gaze she and Mono had shared. She still hadn’t broken skin. She still had control. She wouldn’t kill him.

Six reminded herself of this as her teeth ached to bite in deeper. To tear. With an effort that belied the smallness of the action, she forced herself to let up a little bit on the bite if not let go entirely. She’d sunk down deeper, leaving shadowed imprints that were sure to bruise in the shape of her mouth.

She opened her eyes again, the pupils wide and dark like a cat’s whose attention had been caught by a bird, but instead of making eye-contact once more, Six simply looked off into some middle distance, trying to rein in her impulses. She breathed sharply through her nose, every line of her body indicating she was tensed and ready to escalate at the slightest provocation. Her fingernails were still embedded in Mono’s skin, not yet tearing but likely to the instant he tried to move his arm.

* * *

Up until now, Six had entirely followed his requests, and had always maintaining her gaze as if to verify it was okay. That served as a reassurance, as a promise: no matter what she did, she had control, and she cared for him. She only went as far as he was comfortable. He had found consolation in that. Safety in it. 

Now that changed.

Her eyes shut. Her nails clung to him, like holding prey in place for a feast. He did not feel comfortable, not one bit, and panic was overriding whatever else he’d hoped to glean from this. This was a very very bad idea. Playing with something far too dangerous. Something that seemed alluring at first, but that shouldn't be provoked, shouldn't be tempted. He opened his mouth, as if to frame some protest, some plead for her to stop. Had he been able to do so, things maybe wouldn't have escalated. But fear choked him, especially when she opened her eyes again and all he saw was her hunger. 

Stupid instinct won. Mono jerked as if to rip his arm from her grip.

* * *

It had taken such a short time for things to spin out of her control (though in some part of her mind, Six had to wonder if she didn’t want that, didn’t toe that line intentionally -- that thought could very easily haunt her if this went past the point of no return). Mono jerked. Six bit harder. Skin tore, blood perfumed the air and threw fuel on her fire.

Mono had only moved a little, but it was enough. More than enough. Six pulled her teeth away from his arm and yanked him closer, latching onto his shirt and dragging his neck to her mouth. Her shadows roiled around like angry serpents, some grabbing his ankles, thighs, wrists. Anywhere he might be able to twist or hit. They squeezed tight, like burning ice even through layers of clothes, sure to leave strange, sickly bruises.

This was still Mono, still her friend -- she had the presence of mind to not just tear his throat out and lap at the gaping wound. But she did bite down hard and tasted the teasing sting of salt. Her fingers found his jaw, wrenching his head to the side to give her easier access, dragging lines of blood across his cheek.

* * *

In mere seconds everything spiraled out of control. Her teeth ripped through the flesh of his arm. In his shock, the pain of it barely registered, but the sight of his own blood certainly did, red and thick against his skin, a blaring sign that things were _wrong_. He didn’t have even a moment to process it before she yanked him closer with an inhuman strength, and then he was drowning under an array of sensations, each more disturbing than the last: the feel of her teeth on her throat, the same thing that had so effortlessly torn into his arm; the sight of her shadows, black and impatiently writhing like they wanted nothing more than to pull him apart piece by piece; and then the sickening sensation of those same shadows, snaring every limb and holding him utterly immobile. Her nails raked across his cheek like lines of fire, wrenching his neck hard enough to make an ache bloom deep in the bone. 

It happened incredibly fast. Just like that, he was securely, brutally pinned with his throat exposed to her hungry teeth. His heart was going like a rabbit’s, a rhythm he was sure she could nearly taste. An involuntary squeak of a whimper emitted from his mouth, which had gone dry. His muscles tensed, like any foolish prey animal snared in the grip of something stronger than it, but all motion was entirely suspended. Stopped right at the gate by her shadows. He was thoroughly trapped.

In all his life, despite all the things he’d encountered, he’d never felt this paralyzingly helpless. Always there had been an out, an escape. Either a way to fight back, or he could trust in his ownbody and capabilities to flee. Here, he had no such power. As much as he tried to form protests, her jaws clenched against his throat made it impossible for him to speak - not because of the pressure itself, but because of the terror it gave him.

Again he tensed against her hold, beginning to panic, his breath coming in a fast staccato pace. He needed her _off, _now. Whatever fleeting rationality he had left chimed that he wouldn't manage that if he was panicking, but fear was a horribly powerful influence. And he had a great deal to be afraid of.

* * *

Mono. Mono, Mono, delicious -- _ This is Mono _. Warm. Fresh. Bloodied and afraid. Mono. Food. Six was barely thinking, her mind a cacophony of images, sensations, desires all tumbling and twisting.

Best of all, she could taste his fear. His absolute, soul-crushing _ terror _ at being held down, at being at her not-at-all tender mercies. It seeped into his soul, sharp, bitter flavors that ignited her hunger. It throbbed, fast and frantic. It invited her in. Six could kill him so easily, take what belonged to her, what she had caught.

She breathed in heavily, shakily. She could, but she _ couldn’t _. She shouldn’t. This is Mono. Her friend. He trusted her. If he didn’t trust her anymore, Six would understand. She wasn’t biting down hard enough to kill, but oh did she want to. Her muscles trembled from excitement and tenuous restraint. Her fingers in Mono’s skin shifted, relaxed, tensed again.

Six clamped her teeth hard enough to rip flesh. Not on his throat, though it begged to be torn into, but his shoulder. She felt the weave of his dirty clothes against her tongue. The bloom of blood underneath that. She wrenched her head to the side, gouging the wound deeper, snapping threads of cloth, as though trying to dig through his flesh, dig through his muscle, dig through his bones and lap up his sweet, pure soul.  
  


* * *

She had her teeth at her throat, but she didn’t bite through. She didn’t rip out his throat. Somewhere in his panic that registered as a crucial sign, surging relief into him. She might _want_ to kill him, but she wasn’t. She had control. He clung to that thought while her nails clenched and released on him, while her breath huffed over his vulnerable neck. She wanted to kill him very badly, and he’d underestimated just how badly, but she wasn’t doing it. That tenuous balance caused conflicting desires to mingle: half animalistic terror screeching at him that he needed to flee, half… something else. Images flashed in his mind, of how he must look pinned under her. Of how terrifying she looked on top of him. An addictive warmth bloomed in his chest and shot electric tendrils to every extremity. 

That tore away blindingly fast when she went from his throat to his shoulder. Agony splintered from his shoulder all up to his jaw and all down his arm; he screamed before he knew what he was doing. Her shadows had him crucified as if for dissection, prohibiting his reflex to curl into fetal position. She wrenched her head to the side, and he didn’t know if it was exaggeration or truth, but it felt very much like she was digging out whole chunks of his flesh. Hot blood soaked into the fabric, and a second scream rang in his ears. Spots flashed in front of his vision. Air hissed through his clenched teeth. His shoulder was on _fire, _if not numbed with frostbite: it vacillated between those two extremes, and it hurt even to _breathe. _

His head swam dizzily, his own breath sounding funny in his ears. This was far, far too much. He needed to tell her to stop. And pray she could listen. But that meant forming words, and every grind of her teeth against raw ruptured flesh had him expelling new cries, and flinching violently. 

* * *

Six just wanted to tear and tear and _ tear _ Mono apart. How could she resist, when he was vulnerable and exposed and stupidly, innocently letting her do this to him? He had to have known -- she had to have known. This was inevitable. He must have wanted this.

God. He tasted so wonderful. So tender, under the visceral flavor of blood and flesh, salt and pain. She barely registered him as a person anymore, as Mono. His muscles trembled and convulsed in pain, the sounds of prey begging for help, begging for her to stop, echoed in her ears.

At a particularly strong spasm, Six tore her mouth from the bloodied pulpy mess of Mono’s shoulder and slammed him down with her weight, hand pressing dangerously close to his throat. “Don’t--” she growled, but then cut herself off. Mono’s eyes were large, wide, and terrified. Blood smeared and dripped from wounds on his face, which was drawn and pallid with agony. It was beautiful.

What she must look like above him, his blood red on her mouth, shadows writhing around her, her own eyes alight with hunger. And she was so, so hungry now. Like some great shark teased up from the depths of the ocean by Mono’s blood, it had risen inside of Six and now roiled angrily, famished.

Six said nothing, though she couldn’t make herself let him go. If she did, he’d run. And if he ran…. Six knew she’d be unable to stop herself. She had to feed.


	2. Chapter 2

The pain of her wrenching her teeth free had him seething. It was a testament to his fear, however, that his attention withdrew from the pain and focused on her. Because the image she made chilled him to the bone. Had him wholly convinced that he’d be lucky to get out of this with just a few bites. For the moment, she didn’t look human at all. She more closely resembled an animal, or a demon, if he dared to admit it. Every inch of her was struggling not to end his life imminently.

He understood well that her warning had been to silence his cries, as she found them inciting. If he did nothing, or continued to look like prey… the prospects weren’t too good.

Mono’s breath rattled in his chest. He was altogether too aware of how close her hand was to his throat, how easily she might strangle him. Don’t focus on that, he told himself. Don’t focus on the fact he was pinned and helpless. Don’t focus on the absolute agony in his shoulder. Six needed his help to pull back from her hunger. And he needed her to do that for him to live.

“Six,” he choked out shakily, “Six, please -“ Desperately, he met her gaze, and within her eyes sought any tiny hint of her beneath that consuming, devouring hunger. "You need to stop-"

* * *

Six did need to stop. She really, really did. But she didn’t want to. She really, really didn’t.

Mono had known the dangers, the risk he ran by baring his throat, his wrists, his pulsing, thrumming body. Was it really Six’s fault if she fulfilled his fears (his hopes?). This was just the inevitable conclusion --

But he wanted her to stop. Through the haze of her hunger, Six thought there was some agreement -- or no, was there? Yes, there was the implicit agreement to this, that what he said was what they did. Bite. More. Stop. _ Stop _. Please. Not quite the screaming or flailing that she so loved in her usual prey, but that desperate, begging, terrified tone was still so enticing. Especially eyes locked on hers, wide with fear and shadowed with the looming possibility of death and worse. Devoured, body and soul.

Six wanted to lavish in that look forever. Which she couldn’t do if he died. And she would feel awful for at least a few months, even if Mono was with her forever, now inseparable, intermingled with her in her body. Six didn’t know how to deal with even the specter of guilt. He was her friend, her only friend.

After agonizing seconds with her teeth bared, her breath rattling with the excitement of the hunt (the kill), Six’s shadows retreated. They didn’t vanish entirely, but simply pulled away into the periphery. Six didn’t move. Her feverish gaze was unchanged. Her heart was hammering. The threat was still very much alive, but she wasn’t completely lost to her own desires and the howling, begging void inside her. But oh, she was still so very, very close to the precipice.

* * *

Okay, okay, she was gaining back control. Mono let out ragged breaths as he tried to reassure himself that everything was going to be fine, that they’d both walk away from this and the damage she inflicted wouldn't be permanent. Probably. The chill of her shadows slid away from his skin. Still, he didn't dare exercise any of his newfound freedom, knowing it was only an illusion. The fixed longing in her stare was unmistakable. She’d already left him bloody, shoulder and arm searing, bands of pain aching from where her shadows had seized him in a death grip. But that wasn’t enough for her; that was just the kind of thing that would lure her. 

No, it would be okay. She was handling it, reigning in what had to be an impossibly powerful desire. 

He was so, so stupid. He’d put her in this position. Forced her into a place where she had to wrestle with an impulse that so often got the best of her, with his life as the bargaining chip. Oh god, he could have died. He could still die. One wrong move is all it’d take for her to lose what fragile control she was clinging to.

Uncontrollable shivers set in, even while he internally yelled at himself for his reaction. Everything would be okay. If he just stayed calm. It was real simple. “Okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “We’re - we’re okay.” His voice sounded funny to his own ears. Was this shock? It was really inconvenient. He felt dizzy and faintly nauseous - maybe that was the blood loss? Whatever it was, it made it maddeningly hard to focus on staying calm. And he _needed_ to stay calm. She needed him to stay calm. Not to be thinking about how blood was sticking his shirt to his skin. Not to be thinking about how it had felt, pinned with her teeth at his throat, his life a second from being ripped away.

No, just calm. “I’m - I’m sorry-“ his voice sounded strange to his own ears. He - he needed some distance. “I’m - I’m sorry, I-” Weakly he tried to scoot himself back, but the fresh lick of pain had him seething through his teeth.

* * *

Mono pulled back, and Six went with him. He didn't make it very far. His fear was palpable and _delicious._ The stuttering breaths, the wincing, everything in him screaming to survive. The surest sign of life, of a soul. Six wanted to tear into him right then and there, and this horrible teasing was driving her to do just that.

No shadows, though, not yet. It was only her weight on him, her fingers curling into claws in the flesh of his upper arms, painfully tight even with a layer of cloth between them. He was apologizing, for what Six didn't know, but all it did was serve to steal his breath and make him vulnerable. Her eyes were wide, bright, and seemed to be looking not at Mono but at her next meal. Her next screaming, squealing, writhing meal. Who happened to be Mono.

Because of that, Six would try to not just rip his throat out and lap up the blood like a person dying of dehydration. She wouldn't snap his fragile neck like all those monsters before. She wouldn't just eat him, like he meant nothing. She would eat him like he meant so much to her. Slowly. Savoring every terrified bite of her closest (her only) friend. That was Six's only, all-consuming thought. Mono was her friend, and he was her meal, and with his apologies, his blood, his flinching movements, she had no conflict in her mind about those states of being being simultaneously true.

* * *

He didn’t like how swiftly and attentively she had matched his brief attempt at a retreat. Like she was tracking his movements. He went very still again, apart from the shivers that refused to stop no matter how hard he willed it. He didn’t like, either, the way her eyes followed him so intently, with an eerie light in them. There wasn’t a trace of struggle in them anymore. Just hard, glinting determination. He’d seen that kind of look before. Under the right circumstances, he’d even enjoyed others quavering under that look. Suddenly, sharply, he regretted ever enjoying something like that. Ever wishing this on someone. It was a very different reality when he was the one pinned beneath it.

“Six,” he managed to utter warningly, but couldn't steady himself enough for the name to sound like anything except what it was - a plea. Her grip on his arms hurt and he didn’t know if she realized just how she was squeezing. He didn’t know how aware she was at all. “Six, no-”

He couldn’t help his good arm half raising in a movement aborted by her grip - a movement intended to just push her back, only a little. To put some frail barrier between the two of them. “You don’t want to-” In his head there were more carefully crafted arguments. He knew what he should do, and had some idea what he should say. Only his panicking body refused to cooperate.

* * *

He said she didn't want to, but Six _did_. Six had been teased and taunted with Mono's blood and life and friendship. She had never had a friend before, and she could only imagine how delicious he'd be. She'd never been one to deny herself immediate gratification, but she had for Mono. There was only so much he could ask of her.

As he continued his pathetic struggles that only screamed just how much he wanted her to devour him, Six's shadows slipped free to make sure he didn't interfere and accidentally get himself killed sooner than later. They held him harder than she had, but with broader pressure along his arms and legs. Six had liked her nails digging into his arms, but there were other things to dig into, now. Her hands caught in his hair, forcing his head back. Her breath hit his neck hot and moist, tasting the air just above flesh. But she refrained. People were too fragile for her to go immediately for the pounding, rushing blood there.

After a moment savoring, Six's attention drifted to the gashes in his cheek, blood dried and flaking. A few rough swipes of her tongue and scraping of her flat teeth against the scratches, and the injuries oozed afresh.

* * *

Nonono. This was getting worse, far worse, not better. He was hyper-aware of her presence, and every single way it was manifesting. Her breath was akin to a knife at his throat; the shadows bound him more surely than anything corporeal; his neck and scalp ached from her grip. 

She was forcing him to bare his throat for her like some kind of offering, and he hated it the way any creature in danger hates to have its softest most vulnerable flesh proffered for slaughter.What was worse was that every movement was calculated. Deliberate. She pinned him calmly, with a dark, confident intent, and her teeth and tongue drew blood with a methodical certainty. 

No no _fuck_. This was too much, way too much. He didn’t like this, being a sacrifice held immobile. Intense claustrophobia seized him: he wanted her _off_, he needed to breathe. His body seized involuntarily, in some unconscious and pointless effort to throw her off, while the more rational part of his brain fought to summon some argument that might change her mind.

“I-I can get you something else to eat,” he gasped, so breathily that it was barely comprehendible.“Anything, just-” Regret was hot in his chest and enmeshed with the fear, “I’m sorry I asked for this, it was a mistake, I won’t again-”

* * *

Mono was saying words. Six even knew them, but she didn't care. She didn't want some paltry substitute. She wanted _Mono_. Apologetic, pleading, struggling, grasping and gasping for air he for some reason couldn't get. Others had tried the same, and it hadn't worked for them, either. Mono knew this. He'd helped her feed before. It seemed only natural, that he continue to help her by offering himself.

Instead of entertaining the idea that she'd let him go, Six answered by wrapping her arms around his head, and sinking her teeth into his injured cheek. No more playing, no more temptation. Just a delicious splash of blood on her tongue, fresh and red and humming with life. Eat the body and the soul will follow, marinated in terror and agony. Six was no chef (a fact she was grateful for, knowing what chefs she did), but she had learned the art of soul preparation. Marinate, tenderize, tear apart. Befriend was a new option, and one that Six could already taste added a sharp, tantalizing flavor of betrayal, mixed in with all the subtle little gestures, words, and thoughts that had made them friends.

So she bit, and she tore, and she took her first step past the line that now blurred friend and food. And unlike Mono, Six had no regrets about this.

* * *

Every line of his body tensed and tried to shrink away from her, because it was so painfully obvious and easy to see in her eyes: she’d already decided and nothing he said was going to change her mind. Except it couldn't happen like this; he couldn't go like this. He was still a kid, he was her _friend_ \- 

Any flimsy excuse stopped mattering when her teeth ripped a chunk of flesh from his cheek. When she swallowed and went in for more. Suddenly, a great deal of things didn’t matter. Didn’t matter he was a kid. Didn’t matter they were friends. None of that was important. She was fucking eating him alive. 

That was the only thing that mattered. His scream rang in his ears so loud that he could’ve sworn he heard a pop. His body jerked and bucked, pain be damned, because he had to throw her off, he had to save himself. His own brain worked viciously against him, tossing in image after image of all the victims she’d consumed, every one of them that had fought for their lives and failed. “NO!” Screaming hurt his maimed cheek, and the pain scrawled across his face, but if he made it out with a permanently scarred face it’d be the least of his worries, “Six, it's ME!”

* * *

Mono's fragile control snapped so easily, and now he was nothing more than panic, terror, the desperate need to survive when they were far past that point. Hunger was the great equalizer in Six's life. Everyone became prey at some point, though nobody had ever offered themselves like Mono before. He was such a good friend.

She pulled back, not to stop, but to look at Mono. Yes, it was him. He was correct. Her delicious friend she loved so much. He was hurting, because of her. It was such a nice thing, being so close, being the reason Mono was howling. Six nuzzled his bloody, ripped cheek as he writhed futilely underneath her. With shadows and her own limbs, she clung on easily. 

Her teeth dug in again along his jaw, flat and poorly designed for her purposes, but Six made do. She could feel bone against bone, tooth against jaw. It made her want to gnaw, and, as there wasn't any reason to _not_ anymore, Six indulged herself.

* * *

He quailed beneath her gaze, any further words stolen from him. They weren’t going to work, anyway. No matter what he did or said. He _knew_ that, he wasn’t so dumb as not to have that last bit of alacrity. What he knew logically didn’t have very much sway, though, on the panic coursing through him. He wanted to _survive,_ forget the odds.

He yanked feverishly at the shadows pinning him; no matter how hard he tried, they didn’t budge. The violence of his movements nearly popped his shoulder from its socket, though, anda stupid whimper escaped him.

When she leaned in again, he was certain it was to bite in - instead, she gnawed along his jaw like some dog savoring a bone or something. His stomach turned; he writhed, shuddering from the grind of her teeth. It felt pathetic, but helpless tears pricked at his eyes. Everything hurt. He didn’t want to die. “_Please_-”

* * *

Mono just kept struggling, and it was so absurdly futile. Six doubted he intended to entice her so much, but that was what Mono was doing, so she couldn't be blamed for what _she_ did in response. He knew how she was. He was special to her, but not so special that she wouldn't eat him whole.

Shadows tore into flesh, the sharp ting of blood filled the air. Six grazed Mono's throat before shifting to his shoulder, her fingers, her shadows, tearing at the cloth hiding flesh and bone. She bit down and wrenched her head, exposing a palette of muscle, fat, and bone. The skin tore so easily -- so much easier than it ever seems it should, like it was meant to be ripped apart. Six swallowed with barely any time to chew, caught up in the excitement of the feast and the fight. She wanted her teeth back in Mono before he succumbed to shock or unconsciousness or death.

* * *

“_NO_!” The pain was white hot and for several seconds his vision blurred. His ears rang and suddenly it was like he was under water, submerged in a bath of agony, half separate from himself. He couldn't be seeing his own flesh ripped from his body and swallowed down, there was no way; that couldn’t be happening.

Ragged panting filled his ears but he had little concept that it came from him. The reek of blood was sharp and foul, sending his stomach roiling. Then - “hrk-” stomach acid spilled into his mouth and dripped from his lips. Oh, god. This was disgusting. His whole face scrunched up

Spitting out what he couldn't swallow, he fought to breathe through his wracking sobs. She - she had to stop, she couldn't do this to him. He never wanted it to go so far. He just wanted to live. He had to fight her off. But his body felt weak and useless. He could barely even focus his eyes, and the trembling that had seized him moments ago was now bad enough to be crippling. Even his teeth clacked together: was he cold? He didn’t remember being cold.

His thoughts tumbled over themselves in a frenzied mess, but one that kept returning over and over was that there was way way too much blood right now. From his arm, his shoulder, his cheek, dripping from Six's grinning mouth. That wasn't a good sign. That was objectively a _very_ bad sign, and he needed to do something about it but his limbs weren't obeying his orders, his throat was closing up in terror, and even if he was at full strength, what could he possibly do against her?

* * *

Six was fighting harder to eat Mono slowly than she'd fought to not eat Mono earlier. Much like then, though, she was losing the battle. If only Mono would _stop doing delicious things_.

Mono vomited. Oh. Well. Six had never heard the phrase 'be careful what you wish for' but if she had, it would have suddenly made a lot more sense. Her nose wrinkled cutely at the acidic stink, even as Mono kindly swallowed back what he could with his own look of disgust. It took only a few moments for her to get over the smell, though, as there are often far worse scents when eating people alive. It has simply caught her off guard, but Six was always quick to adapt.

She didn't have time to not, after all. Mono trembled beneath her, shock setting in. Six's fingers raked down his thin chest, uneven nails tearing furrows and pulling up lines of blood, then she tucked her head up under his chin like she was trying to hide there. Her entire weight was on him, along with the pressing darkness she controlled.

A lick. His pulse fluttered, far past the terrified pounding it would have been earlier. Six's teeth sank in. Skin parted, blood spattered, and tangled up in all that pain, all that fear as death loomed, was the best part of her best friend: his soul.

* * *

Her tucking her nose beneath his chin was a facsimile of the times they had cuddled together, with so little care in the world. He missed that. That would be nice. Not - not this.

His fingers and toes were beginning to go numb, and the mute fuzziness marched up his forearms and calves, and bloomed in his chest. Everything felt unreal. Even her tongue against his throat, that wasn’t so bad -

Until teeth proceeded it, and the shock of pain had him seizing in one final convulsion. In the process, he nearly bit through his tongue. Then there was lots of wet warmth spilling down his neck, and cottony dizziness enveloping everything. His eyes swam unfocused in their sockets. At first he thought her weight was enough to make it difficult to breathe; only after a moment did he realize it wasn’t her weight at all, but the blood clotting his airway, bubbling up. He wheezed wetly, and this time it was blood, not vomit, that trailed from his mouth. Fuck. Fuck. No, no - 

Then something much much deeper inside him wrenched. Something he didn’t know he held, something he never thought anyone could touch. Something infinitely more valuable than a simple body and its mess of nerve endings and senses. 

His soul. Which seemed now impossibly vast, impossible _more_. Now it seemed like something he had to protect. Except it was far, far too late for that. His diaphragm shuddered from the strain. Blood had flooded into his lungs. Shapes and objects he was seeing, they all blended together, all began to go dark.

* * *

Mono bucked hard enough to give Six a momentary worry she'd fall off, but it passed as suddenly as it had occurred. Mono's movements quickly succumbed to the final throes that overtake every living person on the cusp of death, small, sporadic spasms that splashed blood from his mouth and made his lungs shudder.

Six felt every second of his death, savoring it in abstractions like tasting fond, muddled memories of all the time they'd spent together as she took his soul into herself. Mono was always reckless, always at risk of dying (not by her hands). Here, now, he'd be safe. Six would make sure of it.

It was all oddly anticlimactic when Mono died. A second Six wished she could hold on to forever, gone, past, and enjoyed, never to return. He'd been alive, fading fast, but alive. Then he wasn't, as easily as stepping through a door. She kept eating, ripping out chunks from an uncaring, cooling corpse, but it was with fading excitement. This wasn't Mono anymore. This was just meat, which was all well and good -- Six wasn't balking at _that_ \-- but Mono had been wonderful. It was hardly a contest which was better.

At least this had been Mono, and Six took enjoyment from that. This was something she and Mono had gotten to experience together, finally. For so long, he'd always been apart from her hunger, averting his gaze, pretending the stink of fear and blood didn't churn his stomach. Maybe liking the idea, though it had taken him ages to bring it up to her. But now he knew what it felt like, what it meant to Six.

She sat back from his mangled remains, torn apart in an ecstatic haze of happiness, and wiped her hand across her mouth, smearing the blood that clung to her lips. Mono's eyes grew milky in death, and his face was barely recognizable after Six had had her fill.

Mono was dead.

A melancholic sort of acceptance diffused in her joy as she realized just how final that state was, mixing up with it and making her chest ache. Mono was dead, and as much as she could taste him on her tongue and feel him in her head and heart, he wasn't there apart from her anymore. No more hand to hold. No more quiet voice beckoning. They had done so much together, and Six was suddenly alone. A tear slipped free that she quickly brushed away, leaving a streak of blood in its place.

She wasn't sure if she regretted it or not, but what was done was done, and it had felt worth it to do this to Mono before someone else did. Six climbed to her feet and stepped away from the body that was no longer her friend's. She wanted to be gone before scavengers came to finish what she'd left behind.

Six licked her lips and walked off, casting only a single glance back.


End file.
